I’ve always had a considerable amount of respect for the Italians due to the absolute marvel that is pizza.
From the Italians to the Earl of Sandwich – who, as I learnt from Blackadder the Third and confirmed to be true on Wikipedia, painstakingly designed that other absolute marvel while surely hungover to fuck and sat at a gambling table, yearning for double the stodge to soak up the poison that is last night’s regret – I’ve always admired the simplicity of utter geniuses who just pile shit on other shit and go for it. In this case, that latter shit is dough.
One thing has always given pizza that crusty edge over a sandwich: Melted cheese. I know cheese toasties are a thing but let’s ignore that for a second because, well, I’m not writing about sandwiches.
To be fair, I usually fold my pizza like this anyway, so it’s basically a sarnie.
For me, cheese is the second best thing in the world, after only melted cheese.
When you melt cheese, this magical beast evolves, much like a Pokémon (yay, #zeitgeist), into its true superior form.
Mozzarella evolves into Stretch Armstrong and brilliantly shows you to be the idiot that you are who can’t keep food in their mouth. Cheddar bubbles with extra strength. Soft goat’s cheese turns into a glorious goo. And then there’s Stilton. Oh Stilton, you beautiful, blue bastard. Stilton loses a tiny bit of its harshness when melted, making it easier for detractors to try it, but the dough soaks up that tangy aroma. It gets deep into the bedrock of the pizza’s soul.
Damn, I love pizza.
So why am I talking about pizza? Well, I turn 26 next weekend and I’m going to try veganism. I turned veggie at the beginning of the year but I eat so much cheese that the whole reason I gave up meat is kind of pointless.
But I’m not writing to lecture you meat-eaters. Christ, I get it. I’ll still say that – after pizza – my favourite meal is a very rare ribeye with Stilton sauce – seriously, I have a problem. You do what you do, guys.
Instead, this is a celebration. As I try – try being the operative word here – to be vegan, I’m going out with a bang by eating a shitload of cheese. More importantly, I’m eating a pizza every single day.
Yup, I’m going to be so sick of amazing creamy ricotta on super soft dough by the 1st of August that I’ll never want to look at a slice again.
Oh I hear ya. ‘Why don’t you wean yourself off the good stuff?’ Well, it’s like having one last steamy night with a lover. I just need one more night of cheesy, hot, teary love. Oh and regret. So much regret. I’m sure I’ll be sick of pizza by Wednesday but I’m one hell of a binger. Always have been, always will be. No doubt, in one week I’ll be binging on nuts and to-fucking-fu. But hey-ho, that’s me. So I’m going out in style(ton…).
I started yesterday with a pretty simple Dr Oetker Ristorante Mozzarella pizza. For frozen pizze (or pizzas to you peasants) that are almost always two for whatevs, they’re pretty alright. They’ve always been my go-to frozen pizza, so I thought I’d start here.
Just in case you wondered what I looked like eating the damn thing
I’m not as simple as Dr Oetker assumed though and crumbled Stilton all over that mother to give it some pizza-zz – I audibly cleared my throat while typing that one.
It was nice. Just me, frozen pizza, glass of the old red and the third season of BoJack Horseman for company.
It wasn’t a particularly special evening but it’s one I’ll remember for the rest of my life if I stand my ground with this resolution.
So here it is. Goodbye Dr Oetker, I hardly knew ye.
Now I’m off to the Italian pizzeria around the corner. Let’s see what Croydon has to offer.